Careless Whispers
by Devin Aiden Teague
Summary: America watches England and France, who seem to be a happy couple. But America wants England for himself.   Not everything is as it seems... US/UK  onesided... perhaps.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Well… This will be my first full length fanfic. I originally intended for this to be a one-shot, but I think making it a multi-chapter story will work better.  
>Honestly, this isn't really close to what I originally intended it to be. It was <em>supposed<em> to be a songfic. Arthur was _supposed_ to be indifferent to America's feelings. And it was _supposed_ to be based off of _Careless Whisper_ (the Seether version, just because George Michael bothers me…)  
>I shall use the title anyway though. Because I'm feelin' it right now.<br>It was also supposed to be more angsty and end sadly. Now it will have more chapters and… who knows how it will end?  
><strong>Warning<strong>: Angsty, moody, thoughtful America. Boys dancing and kissing. Tears.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not, have not, and will never own Hetalia: Axis Powers or _Careless Whisper_(either version.)

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><p>The room was dark, a suitable atmosphere for the gathering. Several nations were dancing, drinking, mingling with one another and the humans who had been invited. America stood on a balcony, watching his guests. Most of them, anyway. There was one couple he kept pulling his eyes away from. One couple it hurt too much for him to see…<p>

England smiled shyly up at France as they moved over the dance floor. France leaned in to kiss England's cheek, simultaneously slipping the hand on England's waist lower. Feeling his heart twist, America turned away and, with a sigh, went to check on the drinks and food set out for his guests. He wanted everyone to enjoy themselves.

'_Well, almost everyone…_' he thought with a stab of jealousy.

Almost as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, America shoved the feelings away. Heroes weren't petty. And he was a hero, wasn't he? He forced himself to focus on the drinks. He needed to put more out for his guests. Then he could return to his balcony to mope a bit more. His thoughts could wait until then. As long as he was around guests, however, he needed to be his normal _cheerful_self.

Once again on his balcony, thoughts of what England was doing with France returned. America couldn't help the jealousy and anger he felt. Hoping to distract himself, America began watching his guests again. He smiled at Italy obviously trying to persuade Germany to do something… Dance perhaps? Probably. He resumed scanning the crowd, looking for his baby brother. Not that Canada would ever let America refer to him as his 'baby brother'. Eventually America located his brother in a secluded corner with Cuba. He scowled as Cuba moved even closer to his brother. After deciding to have a long talk with his brother the next time he had a chance, America resumed looking at the crowd. After noticing several more couples, his eyes finally returned to France and England.

'_I should have told him how I felt. Maybe then he'd be with me, not being molested by that… By France.' _America couldn't stop the few tears that sprung from his eyes at the thought. He'd been too slow and now his chance was gone.

_'He could be mine… I could win him from France… Or France could lose England himself… He does have that problem keeping his hands to himself…' _America frowned. _'It's bound to happen… France will try and maybe even succeed in seducing someone else… I just have to make sure England fi-.'  
><em>America cut off his thought there. He was seriously thinking of how to get France and England to break up? It was one thing to know France's nature, to expect something to happen… But to actually seriously begin thinking of _hurting_ England by showing him proof? _'I'm supposed to be a hero… Heroes don't plan on hurting others. At least not the innocent bystanders. Only the villains… And, even in this, not even France is the villain. He just has the man I love…'_

Tears rolled from America's eyes once more, and he struggled to bring himself back under control. He wiped his face, hoping to destroy any traces of the tears. He was angry at himself for losing control like this. He wasn't some teenager and his reaction was too childish to tolerate.  
>He forced himself to think of things other than France and England for a few more songs. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he wanted enough time to calm down before he mingled with his guests. He returned to watching his guests as he calmed himself, mostly because it provided things for him to think about.<p>

As he turned to make his way downstairs, he noticed England making his way upstairs. To America. His heart twisted painfully again as the slender man faced him and smiled at him.

"Hello, Alfred. This is where you've been hiding from your guests all evening?" England asked lightly, not realizing that that was exactly what America had been doing.

America smiled lightly, proud to be able to keep his emotions in check. "I was just about to go down and join everyone, England." England frowned a little. "No need to be so formal, Alfred. And I came here to see if you'd like to dance."

"Dance? With you? But what about France?"

"What about him? I can dance with whomever I want!"

"Alright. Well, let's go down to dance."

"We can dance right here…"

America nodded and held his hand out to England.

England took the offered hand, and America pulled him closer, sliding an arm around England'swaist. As they danced, America kept his eyes trained somewhere over England's shoulder. He didn't notice England's hurt expression or the determination that flashed in his eyes.

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><p><strong>AN:**And this is where I shall leave you. Hopefully, you will want more.

Please, leave me reviews and some constructive criticism, if you notice something off. Do not, however, leave flames. If you didn't like this, that's fine. But don't make a fool of yourself by insulting me because you found a story you don't like. Just go find a story you do like.


	2. Ch 1 Schemes and France

**Warning**: Angsty America. Boys dancing and kissing. Possible Tears. Schemes and Use of Human Names. And France. He deserves to be his own warning.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not, have not, and will never own Hetalia: Axis Powers. The characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me. Obviously.

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><p><em>Three Days Earlier<em>

Arthur stared at the cup of tea in his hands.

"You called me here for a reason, mon cher. Now spill. What do you need my help with?"

He sighed and raised his eyes from the tea to glance at Francis gracefully sprawled over one of the hotel room's beds. He was already starting to regret asking for Francis' help.

"Sit up, you bloody git. I need your help figuring something out. I… I'm a bit confused about it myself. And, after all, you _are_ the master of l'amour… you certainly say it enough anyway."

Francis' eyes grew wide as Arthur spoke. "You need help with l'amour? Ah! Who is it Angleterre? Tell me!" Francis suddenly jumped off the bed. He was excited and desperate to hear every word Arthur said. To have someone not only talk to him about l'amour _but to also need his advice!_ This was more wonderful than perhaps anything else. Though it did make him wonder why Arthur was the only one to ask for his advice…"Who do you love, mon cher? I will help you anyway I can! I will do anything for l'amour!" Arthur was obviously in dire need of Francis' expertise, and Francis was only too willing to help.

Arthur watched in exasperation as Francis began practically leaping around his hotel room. Couldn't he be serious? Arthur sighed and decided to just let Francis be excited. For a few minutes, anyway. In the midst of his celebrating, Francis suddenly turned back to Arthur with a strange glint in his eyes.

"Now, mon cher, we need to discuss all the details… Don't leave _anything_ out."

Arthur suppressed a shudder and took a long, calming, gulp of his tea. He could face this. He was the United Kingdom. He could face anything.

"Well… America has been acting unusually lately. He's so… contradictory. He acts like a bloody prat one minute… But then he'll ask me to dinner or a movie… or some other Hollywood-esque type date activity." Arthur blushed as he paused to take another drink of his tea—a dainty sip, this time. "But he always goes back to acting like a git. He brought me flowers on one of the maybe-dates, and he's been giving me chocolate on Valentine's Day for years… I don't know what to do… I don't even know what to think! Does he even like me? Or is this just... nothing to him?"

"… It sounds to me that he does feel something for you. Remember, he is still young! Of course he isn't being clear! He hasn't learned to show l'amour as us older countries have! The children on the playground show their likes through chasing and hair pulling, do they not?" Francis smirked as he finished speaking, looking expectantly at Arthur.

"If you say so…" Another sip was taken from the cup in Arthur's hands. "Anyways, what do I do?"

Francis cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Arthur. "All you've told me is how Amérique acts toward you. What about you? Do you love him, Angleterre?"

_'Damn him! How dare he act serious about the things I __**don't**__ want him to!'_ Arthur blushed and attempted to take another sip of tea to avoid answering. Unfortunately, the cup was empty. _'Damn!'_ The truth was, Arthur didn't really know how he felt for Alfred, and he had a feeling Francis was going to put him through hell trying to figure it out.

"Angleterre, I am waiting…" Francis called Arthur's attention back to him. "I can't help you if I don't know what you need, mon cher. "

"I… I don't know…" Arthur mumbled, "I mean… I… " He stopped for a moment, thinking, and swallowed nervously before continuing. "I don't love him, because I didn't start thinking about this seriously until a few months ago. It takes more than that to love someone. I'd like to have the chance though. I think I _could_ love him, even with all his annoying traits." He looked up at Francis, expecting him to laugh. When it seemed that the other intended to continue being serious, Arthur spoke again. "I want to be able to find that out, you know. Whether or not I can love him. I want that chance."

"But you do feel something for him, don't you, Angleterre?" Francis' voice was soft. "You aren't just going to hurt him, are you?"

"Of course I feel something! I am attracted to him. I just… I wouldn't call it love. Not yet. But, dammit, I want him."

"Then it is obvious what we must do, mon cher. We shall have to force Amérique to act. He is too nervous, and too young, to make his feelings clear right now, but if he has a rival for your attention, he will _have_ to fight for you." The enthusiasm was returning to Francis, and he looked quite proud of himself for his ideas.

Why did Arthur have a funny feeling he was going to regret this? "A rival for my attention?"

"Oui! _I_ shall be his rival. It will be simple. We shall arrive at the party together, spend most of our time at the party together, though of course it will be necessary for you to spend some time with Amérique alone… But we will leave together. Unless that is enough to drive him to action. If not, we will stay here in DC, together, and make sure he knows it. Perhaps we should ask him to show us some of the city's sights? I promise you, Angleterre, he will crack. You will have your chance."

"No… No. I refuse to pretend I am with you. Is this just a way for you to try and get in my pants, you bloody frog?" Arthur's voice rose to an unearthly shriek. What did Francis think he was playing at?

"Mon cher, I am wounded. I would never try to get in the way of l'amour! I am doing this so you will have your chance. You know it will work." Arthur would agree. He had to. L'amour _must_ be served!

Arthur glared at Francis for several moments, while Francis just smiled back at him. _'Damn. Damndamndamn. He's right… And I __**do**__ want to be with Alfred.'  
><em>  
>"Fine." Arthur refused to look at Francis and see his damned smirk. However, he started as Francis stood and walked to the hotel room's door. "Where are you going?"<p>

"Hmm? Oh, I must find somewhere for me to stay. I hurried here to see what you needed and completely forgot to do it earlier."

Oh. Well.

"… If you promise to keep your hands to yourself, you may stay here. It should make Alfred even more jealous. But don't get any ideas! You'll be sleeping in your own bed!"

Francis smirked. "How devious, Angleterre. Merci. Since that has been taken care of, let us talk more about the plans."

Yes. Arthur was definitely going to regret this. At least he knew he could trust Francis' help though.

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><p><em>The Party<em>

Arthur allowed Francis to drag him across the room to a shadowy corner, in full view of the balcony a pouting America had retired to. His expression had shocked Arthur a little. Did seeing Francis and himself together really upset Alfred so much? Or was that just wishful thinking on Arthur's part? Alfred was probably just upset and pouting that tonight's party was so formal. Arthur forced himself to smile. Of course that was it.

Francis smiled at Arthur. "Would you like to dance, Arthur? Remember, we have to play the part of a happy couple…"

Arthur smiled in acquiescence, and Francis pulled him into his arms. Arthur suddenly felt shy and nervous. Francis' arm tightened subtly around his waist  
><em>'I feel like a giddy schoolgirl with her first crush'<em> he thought._ 'Actually, that may be the only way I'll get through this. Time to act.'_  
>So Arthur smiled shyly up at Francis, stealing a quick glance at him through lowered lashes before he glanced up to the balcony from which America was watching them all. As Arthur's eyes returned to Francis, he felt the quick brush of lips on his cheek, and the subtle movement of Francis' hand moving lower on his waist.<p>

Francis and Arthur danced for a while before stopping to mingle with their fellow countries. Alfred had stayed upstairs for most of the party, and Arthur was beginning to worry about him. Just as he felt he was going to explode from worrying so much, Francis turned and whispered in his ear, "Mon cher, I believe now would be a very good time to go talk to our Amérique. He is still secluded in his balcony… All alone."

Without a word, Arthur rose and hurried to the balcony. Alfred turned to face him just as he was reaching the top step. He held back a gasp as he noticed America's red and puffy eyes. Had he been crying?

Arthur forced a smile at Alfred. "Hello Alfred. This is where you've been hiding from your guests all evening?"

Alfred's eyes widened for a second, but he smiled and replied, "I was just about to go down and join everyone, England."

Arthur frowned. Alfred was really upset… It wasn't like him to cry or to be so formal with him. Usually he had to yell at Alfred for insisting on using that ghastly nickname 'Iggy'! All Arthur wanted now was to make Alfred smile again. He didn't like seeing him so sad… "No need to be so formal, Alfred. And I came here to see if you'd like to dance."

"Dance? With you? But what about France?" Alfred looked confused now.

Arthur was going to murder Francis. He should have known this idea would never work. "What about him? I can dance with whomever I want!" And he could. Even if he _had _really been with Francis, he would still be able to do what he wanted. America was so strange sometimes.

"Alright. Well, let's go down to dance."

Wait, what? "We can dance right here…"

Arthur was relieved when Alfred just nodded and held a hand out to him. At least he didn't insist on going downstairs. Arthur allowed Alfred to pull him close. He really hoped Alfred would choose now to tell him how he felt… To ask him to be with Alfred…

But Alfred didn't even look Arthur in the eyes. Arthur knew his expression had to betray some of the hurt he felt at being ignored, but, at the same time, he was determined to have Alfred confess his feelings. Francis' plan had better work, or there would be hell to pay.

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><p><strong>AN: **I'm sorry! I know this took forever to put up! But it's longer, so that's good, right?  
><strong><br>**So. Because I was so mean, I decided not to put an author's note at the beginning, so ya'll could just get to the story. XD  
>Here is everything I wanted to say to you.<p>

You guys should totally thank **fricken ray of sunshine.** (She's my little sister.) She's the one who kept reminding me to work on this, and she kept telling me how evil it was not to update.  
>She'll probably do that until I finish the story.<p>

Part of the reason I didn't update is because… I was watching a lot of anime. NEW anime, for me. (Black Butler [Kuroshitsujo][haven't finished], Junjō Romantica [still haven't finished it], Earthian, and Death Note[actually… I've _been_ watching it. I just haven't finished it. 4th disk I think… I'm getting it from Netflix…])  
>I was also having to deal with EA. And that leads me to a funny story… In the first sentence of this chapter… I stopped at the 't' in 'tea'. Why didn't I have a chance to type out that 'ea'? Cuz I had to deal with my Sims game and EA having difficulties letting me download something I bought. EA kept me from typing an ea.<br>And… I started reading Brave New World the other day, but typing this took precedence over finishing the book. Hmm… On that lit note… Does anyone know any good poets/poems I should check out? If so, review or message me and tell me. No fanfic/poems, please. I'm copying down all the stuff I like the best, and I'm trying to keep fandoms out.

I hope you guys enjoyed my characterization of France… And how I just totally redid the whole prologue from Arthur's point-of-view…

As always, I'd love reviews, but I'm also glad to see so many people adding me to their favorites and alerts. And I can see you. Names, anyway. I see them… I know how many of you don't review. (Creepy creepy me.)


	3. Ch 2 In Which Canada

**Warnings:** Angsty America. Boys dancing. (No actual kissing this chapter XD) Schemes and Use of Human Names. Minor use of inappropriate language. And France. He still deserves to be his own warning.  
><strong><br>Disclaimer:** I do not, have not, and will never own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

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><p>Full Chapter Title: In Which Canada Is The Only Real Victim<p>

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><p>The way Alfred was acting, Arthur fully expected him to leave as soon as the song ended. Instead, Alfred seemed to become a bit more cheerful, and continued dancing with Arthur as another song started. Both men slowly relaxed in each other's arms as the music wound on. Arthur grew hopeful that this would lead to a confession from Alfred. He was also quite happy that they were still alone.<p>

It gave Arthur plenty of time to figure out how he was going to enact the _next_ part of France's plan. He still wasn't sure how to bring it up to Alfred without the boy getting upset again. He really didn't want to make Alfred upset so soon after he'd finally cheered up. He had a feeling, however, that this happy moment wouldn't last.

Within the next few moments his feeling was proven right. Alfred was once again tense against Arthur and watching _someone_ over the balcony. Arthur glanced down in the general direction and found the only thing out of place was the fact that France seemed to have cornered a seemingly reluctant Canada and was obviously trying to seduce him. _'Is he so upset for me? He… He can't be. He's worried about Canada. He has to be.' _Even as Arthur told himself the obvious fury of his American friend wasn't for him, his heart swelled with hope.

Alfred couldn't believe what he was seeing. Arthur hadn't even left Francis' side for ten _minutes_ and the man was already all over another person- Alfred's little brother and _his_ former colony, no less. Suddenly, Francis turned. He stared up into the balcony, smirking, and winked. Alfred was furious. How could this man just _play_ with Arthur's emotions like tha-

Arthur. Fuck. How would Arthur take this? He turned his sight back to the man in his arms. He couldn't let him know. He had to protect Arthur, like the hero he was. Surely it was more heroic in this case to lie to Arthur and not let him get hurt, right? Surely that was more heroic than breaking the other man's heart. Alfred was sure that a dilemma like this would drive him mad, but Arthur seemed not to have noticed anything yet, so Alfred led them away from the edge of the balcony. He couldn't tell Arthur. He refused to hurt him, even if it would get him closer to what he wanted so much…

As the song ended, Alfred stepped away from Arthur. "I should probably talk to more of my guests. You can join me if you like, Iggy."

Arthur's heart jumped and his mood lifted. Even though he would have to share Alfred now, at least the younger man was calling him Iggy again. "I think I will. And don't call me Iggy. I have a proper name, so use it." He'd never let the American know how much he'd loved the name right then, though.

As Alfred led the way down the stairs, Arthur suddenly remembered _what_ he was supposed to be doing while alone with Alfred.

"Alfred, I have a question, and I hate springing it on you so suddenly, but the decision itself was rather sudden..." His voice trailed off as Alfred turned on the stairs to face him.

"Yeah, Iggy? Whaddaya need?"

"Well, France and I decided that, while we have some time that we aren't really needed at home, we should take a vacation. We were going to stay here for a few more days, and we… Well, I was wondering if you'd maybe come with us at least one or two of the days and take us to some interesting places. Unless you're busy, of course."

Alfred wanted to throw a fit and outright _refuse_ to do anything involving France, but the way Arthur tilted his head just looked so cute and Alfred knew if he was rude to the other nations, his boss would be most displeased. So, hiding his negative emotions, Alfred smiled at Arthur.

"Sure. I know some great places. Not amusement parks and McDonald's either! Stuff I'm sure you two will like."

Alfred urged Arthur to keep walking, not sure if he could control himself if he wasn't with others _soon_. It was always easier to be heroic when he knew others were watching him. So, for his own sanity, and the sake of his 'friendship' with Arthur, Alfred rushed them down the stairs.

'_Must not jump Arthur. Just because France is a perv and can't keep his hands to one person does not mean Arthur would appreciate me slamming him against a wall and kissing him senseless. I must be a hero.'_

Alfred quickly made his way over a crowded area well away from where he had seen France and Canada. Much as he would _love_ to rescue his brother, he didn't want Arthur to be hurt or know that Alfred had seen that and not told him. Finally noticing who was around him, he began chatting with Yao as Arthur just stood, slightly behind America. Japan, who was standing nearby, wandered over to talk to the now ignored Englishman.

The problem with France was forgotten, until his unmistakable -'_awful'-_ accent reached Alfred's ears. He cringed as he listened to the man, whom he had only recently seen all over someone else, speaking sweetly to Arthur.

"Mon cher, have you been enjoying yourself? I've missed you…" Francis' accent was grating on Alfred's nerves, and it took more restraint than he had though it would not to turn around and punch the man. "I'm not sure if I want to share you with everyone else for much longer, Angleterre… Let's leave."

"At least let me say goodbye to Alfred." Alfred turned around at the mention of his name to see Francis draped over a flustered Arthur and thanked whatever gods that may be for the fact that his face betrayed none of the harsh emotions he was feeling. The cheerful mask he had forced on his face earlier hadn't slipped yet.

"Yes, say goodbye to our dear Amérique. I'll wait outside." With that, Francis released Arthur and strode outside.

It was then that Arthur noticed Alfred looking expectantly at him. "Well, I… Francis and I are leaving. Will you call me in the morning or…?"

Alfred's voice, like his expression, never faltered. "I'll call you, don't worry. I hope you've enjoyed yourself, and have a good night."

Arthur smiled and then left. America watched him walk away until China coughed, delicately, to reclaim his attention.

"Sorry," America mumbled, blushing a bit.

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><p><strong>AN: ** Please, dear readers, forgive me. You guys really mean a lot to me and I am so _very very _sorry that I took so long to update. I have excuses, but they are really not enough to justify taking so long. I'll tell you anyway though.  
>First, I was rushing to finish Canada and America's birthday stories. I managed to complete them both on time (barely…) America's even is a kinda prequel to this story! That counts for something, right?<br>I also had several appointments with various needle-wielding people. I have to go back for another one August 2… And make an appointment to get my wisdom teeth taken out.

My last excuse is… I was uploading stories previously posted _here_ on other accounts. I'm pretty caught up now though.

I promise that I went ahead and did some research for the next chapter(s), and even wrote part of a future chapter. This story _really_ shouldn't be more than three more chapters, even though I think it will only be two.

France is a bit less… likeable in this one isn't he? I wanted to show a more dastardly side of him. Poor America, he has so many things to agonize over.

Quick question: Do you guys think his choice makes him a hero? Or is he making the wrong choice? (In regards to keeping France's "cheating" a secret, of course! Arthur and you readers know the truth, but just from what America knows… Your thoughts, please?  
>And quick question # 2 (about a future story, that I will only actually write once this is complete) I'm thinking about writing a high school fic. Should the Bad Friends Trio, Arthur, Berwald(if I include him.), Denmark, and a few more of the "older" crowd be actually in high school? Or in their 20s? Because, if they're in their 20s, that opens Alfred, Ludwig, Romano, and possibly Tino and a few others to be, say, seniors around 17 and 18, while Feliciano, Matthew, Norway, (and possibly others that I may include) would be 16-ish. That makes sense right? Flows well and all? Again, your thoughts would be very appreciated.<p>

I'm going to apologize again for being so late, and I hope you guys aren't too upset.

xoxo,  
>Dev<p> 


	4. Ch 3 Being A Hero Ain't Always Easy

**Warning:** Angsty America. France [again, his own warning for a whole nother reason.] Language (I'm upping the rating ), Uh... Surprise pairing?

**Disclaimer:** I do not, have not, and will never own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

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><p>It was well after the end of the party, and Alfred had been tossing in his bed for hours. He still wasn't sure about the choice he made, but how could he tell Arthur now? It was so tempting, though, to tell him. Besides, was it really better for him not to know…? Alfred didn't want Arthur to hurt, but what if Francis tried to cheat again? Fuck, didn't Francis ever think about anyone else's feelings? Alfred himself recalled a time when Francis had made him feel special before breaking his heart. As in all of Francis' relationships, he had treated his partner sweetly and lovingly until he had found another, more interesting, partner.<p>

This wasn't about Alfred though. This was about Arthur. What could Alfred do to make everything right for him?

This question had been tormenting Alfred all night. He had no clue what he should do. If he kept Francis' behavior from Arthur, then it couldn't hurt Arthur. Unless Arthur found out some other way or Francis cheated on him again. Alfred clearly remembered the pain of when _he_ had discovered all the lies. He didn't want Arthur to feel the way he had... He didn't want _anyone_ to feel like that. But he didn't want to be the one to destroy Arthur's happiness. He loved Arthur, and wanted to see him smiling.

He hated these thoughts. Why wasn't being a hero something easy? Superman made it look easy. He never had to decide whether what he was doing was the right choice! And these thoughts were exhausting...

Alfred kicked his feet against the mattress and rolled onto his back in an effort to distract himself. He wanted sleep. But how could he sleep when something like this was going through his head?

Glaring bright numbers informed him it was currently only a quarter past two when he turned to glance at the clock on his nightstand. He sighed and sat up, grabbing his cell phone from next to the alarm clock.

XoXoXoX

Francis woke to his phone's incessant buzzing in his ear. Without even glancing at the caller id, he answered with a sleepy "Allô?"

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" an angry voice growled in his ear.

"It's always so nice to speak with you, Amérique… You know just how to make a person feel so warm and fuzzy inside," Francis responded drily.

"Shut up!" America paused. "We need to talk."

"I can't talk if I'm shutting up, you know, Amérique."

"You know what I meant. Bastard. What street is your hotel on?"

Francis grew suddenly wary. "Why?"

"Because I love you and want to stalk you. Why do you think? I'm trying to figure out the closest place we can meet so you don't have to go too far from the damn hotel." The unspoken 'because I'm the Hero, so I care even about bastards like you' was obvious to Francis. He knew Amérique too well.

"Pennsylvania Avenue. Northwest. I'm tired and don't want to go anywhere."

"Arthur doesn't need to hear this conversation." Amérique countered automatically. "There's a McDonald's on 13th street. Meet me there. Like, now."

"D'accord. See you soon." Francis hung up and wearily pulled himself out of bed to get dressed. There was no point in trying to argue with Amérique. Or questioning why he had the locations of various McDonalds memorized…

Francis was quite unhappy with the situation. He did not want to be awake, and he most certainly did _not_ want to be in McDonalds. But this was a surprising turn of events. He had not expected Amérique to want to talk to him. It didn't make the situation worth it, but it did provide something for Francis to wonder at.

Before long, Francis found himself waiting outside a McDonalds and cursing the person who had invented cell phones. And McDonalds. Couldn't Amérique have found them a cozy little café to meet at? It would have provided a perfect atmosphere for this clandestine confrontation and would probably serve better coffee at least.

He didn't have much longer to wait. Alfred appeared, breathless and looking as exhausted as Francis felt. He was ushered inside and the two quickly placed orders, Francis opting to just get coffee. He was surprised when Alfred also only ordered coffee before leading Francis to a booth.

Francis waited for Alfred to speak, but after only a few moments gave up. "What did you want, Amérique?"

"We need to talk about you."

"About me, Amérique? What do you mean?" If Francis had to deal with Amérique being confrontational and with waking up in the middle of the night, he was going to make sure it was damn well worth it. He'd do his best to make Amérique lose control; drive him that much closer to his breaking point.

"You know exactly what I mean. That _bullshit _you pulled, practically molesting my _brother_ while your boyfriend could have _seen_! Not that you should be molesting anyone else at all."

"Molesting?" Francis questioned. "I don't recall any molesting earlier…"

"Then what were you doing to Canada? Do you realize what you're doing to _England_? If you want someone else, then just let England go. He doesn't deserve this… He doesn't deserve to just be run around on til you feel you've stomped on his heart…" Alfred seemed close to tears, and that actually surprised Francis. He'd been expecting to get yelled at; been expecting threats and maybe even to get hit.

He'd never expected Amérique to look so lost and hurt. So vulnerable.

"Amérique…" he began hesitantly. Alfred turned his face away. Everything Francis had planned to say crumbled away. He stared blankly at the man seated across from him.

"Whatever. You… you're a real bastard. I hope you know that. And I hope you either start treating him better, or that England sees earlier than I did just what you are."

Francis eyes widened. Was Amérique really referring to…? Francis had changed since then! Still, he had to play this cool. He needed to bring Amérique's focus back to how he felt about Arthur, not the past. He needed to keep the conversation on the events of the past day.

He began again. This time, his thoughts wouldn't be so easily scattered. "Amérique, I think you are mistaken." Francis murmured. "I was not _molesting_ anyone… Mathieu and I were merely… talking." He kept his smirk from reaching his face.

Mathieu would back him up on that. He never once touched the younger nation inappropriately, and their entire discussion had been about the relationship between England and Amérique. Sure, it had _looked _like something more, but that was all part of the plan. Once he'd explained the entire situation, Mathieu had been all too happy to help.

Alfred glared across the table at him, obviously not believing what Francis was telling him. "You better believe I'm going to ask him about it. And he'd never lie to me. Not about something like this."

"Just why do you care so much, Amérique?" Francis wondered how far he could push before the other did _something._ He just hoped that something didn't involve a punch to the face or other, more sensitive, regions. "England is mine. _Not _yours. It isn't like you want him anyway."

Francis paused taking a sip of what remained of his coffee. "Though, one would almost think you were jealous of me, Amérique. The way you kept Angleterre to yourself at the party and the way you obsess and worry over him so. Almost like you _do_ want him for yourself." Francis drank a little more of the lukewarm mess in his cup. He could make _much_ better coffee.

Alfred's expression faltered; shock showed plainly on his features. Slowly his previous expression of anger took over again. "England isn't a possession, _Francis_," he ground out, saying the other man's name with as much disgust as possible. Francis' taunts went unacknowledged. No use in letting him see how true they were.

Francis finally let the smirk show on his face. He was getting somewere. "Poor Amérique. You really do want him, don't you? How long has _this_ been going on?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not trying to steal him; I just want you to treat him better!"

Oh, how naive Amérique was! "What if I feel the way I'm treating him is fine? I don't see a reason to change."

"Do you care about him at all? Do you want to hurt him?"

All Francis replied was "Maybe." with no indication which question it was answering. It only served to anger Alfred further.

"I think you don't care." A note of increduality entered his voice.

When Francis continued to say nothing, Alfred snapped. _'If he doesn't care about his relationship, is it really a bad thing to try to steal Arthur's affections? It can't be! I can... I can really try to win him... I just hope he'll be willing to give up on this bastard.'_ Feeling confident in his reasoning, Alfred made his decision.

"If you don't care, then I don't see a reason why I shouldn't try to win him. I'll show him what a good boyfriend _should_ be like. When he breaks up with you, I hope you finally know how bad it feels. I doubt you will though, with how little you feel for anyone."

Francis laughed, hiding any hurt he felt, and at that reaction, Alfred stood. "I'm leaving. I'll need sleep if I'm going to show Arthur how I feel and how little you do." With that said, he turned and left the restaurant.

Francis drained what was left of his coffee and left as well. It didn't take him long to return to the hotel Arthur and he were staying in. He was surprised to see a lamp on when he walked in. Arthur was waiting for him, seated on his bed. At Francis' questioning look, he spoke.

"I woke up as you were leaving. I figured it might have something to do with Alfred and if it was, I'd like to know."

Stripping to ready himself for bed, Francis nodded. "Oui. He called and asked me to meet him. We discussed what happened with Mathieu earlier."

"And? I know there's more to it than that!" Arthur was feeling quite impatient. He wondered to himself when this feeling of wanting Alfred had grown.

"Oui, oui. Just a moment. He threatened me a bit. Told me I should treat you better. Called me a bastard quite a few times. Has he been hanging out with the older Italy lately or something? I thought that was his insult." At the other's glare and 'I don't know!' he continued. "At the end, he decided he was going to try to fight for you. He said he'd show you what a good boyfriend should be like." _'He also said he hoped I'd hurt; he looked like he hated me in there. Does everyone feel that way about me?'_

Arthur was practically glowing with joy when Francis laid down to sleep. A few moments later, disturbed by the words and accusations pouring through his skull, Francis turned to ask "Am I really a bastard? Am I really cruel?"

Arthur didn't speak for several long moments, and Francis had given up, thinking he was too obsessed with thoughts of Amérique, when finally he said, "You've hurt a lot of people. You aren't all bad, and some of us see that. Spain and Prussia see it, definitely. But you don't have the best record when it comes to relationships. You aren't cruel. But... you have been a bastard in the past." With that, the other man laid down to sleep as well.

Francis didn't fall asleep for almost an hour, haunted by Arthur's words and the thoughts tormenting him still. _'Is this why no one else seeks my help? Am I really more known for breaking hearts, not making them whole? I... I thought... I can't be. Surely they know I'm not cruel... not terrible...' _An image of Amérique's face from earlier, hurt and lost and so accusing, came to his mind. Tears slipped from his eyes as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

XoXoXoX

Arthur woke to the sound of his phone's ringtone. A short conversation later, he was shaking Francis awake. "Get up, git! We've got an hour to get ready and meet Alfred. I'm getting in the shower now."

He rushed through his shower and, by the time Francis actually got up, was fully dressed and ready. While Francis went through his grooming ritual, he relaxed with a nice cup of tea.

After what Francis had said the night before, Arthur was beginning to grow concerned. He hadn't actually thought through how the whole thing would work. It seemed like they were putting to much pressure on Alfred, and it seemed to be wearing on Francis as well. Arthur's and Francis' rivalry had become much more friendly in the past years and though they still were not on the best of terms, neither wanted the other to be truly hurt, physically or otherwise.

But Alfred would be trying to _win _Arthur. That was pretty much what he wanted, right? It was almost the same as confessing his feelings... But Arthur was afraid of how this whole thing would turn out. Surely he'd have to eventually tell Alfred that he'd never really dated Francis, wouldn't he? Or could he handle lying to him forever? Now that he was so close to what he wanted, his brain was finally kicking in. He could only hope this would all turn out well.

By the time Arthur and Francis left to meet Alfred, Arthur still hadn't quelled his doubts. Francis was also unusually quiet and thoughtful, though both forced themselves to act more normal as they neared the area they were meeting Alfred.

He greeted both men politely, though he was noticably colder to Francis. Everyone pretended to ignore that, however, and Alfred chattered cheerfully as the men headed to the National Mall, where Alfred had decided to start their trip.

"The Smithsonian Museums are around here, and they're all pretty cool. There's even an art museum. I though you might enjoy that, Francis. Um, you guys want to start with Air and Space museum? It's got a planetarieum!" Arthur chuckled as Alfred's eyes lit up and nodded his agreement.

Thus started a rather long morning of museums. They visted anything that seemed interesting at the moment, and Arthur enjoyed Alfred's subtle chivalrous actions. He also found it amusing that Alfred always seemed to get 'distracted' right when he could have repeated his kind action for Francis. The other man was obviously not amused, but he didn't seem too upset by the treatment. Arthur was wondering if that was all that Alfred would be doing to gain his affections, when they decided to stop for a rather late lunch. Halfway through, Francis excused himself, leaving the other two to a suddenly awkward silence.

Arthur cleared his throat, hoping he could think of something to say to rid the atmosphere of its awkwardness. Before he managed to come up with something, Alfred began talking, rather shyly and quietly.

"Are you happy with him?"

Arthur was taken aback. What could he possibly say to _that_?

_'You want him to know you're receptive, don't you? Say you're having doubts... Say you don't know if you're happy...' _Arthur couldn't help but feel tempted by his inner demon, and with Alfred looking at him so expectantly, he gave in.

"I... don't know, Alfred." He couldn't bring himself to meet the other man's eyes after that.

"Then why are you with him? Does he treat you badly? If he does, you know you can tell me!" Alfred was quickly growing agitated and Arthur needed to stop him before he grew hysterical.

"He doesn't treat me bad, luv. Francis is nice enough." _'Just not what I want.'_ But of course Arthur couldn't say that. He completely ignored the question of why he was with Francis, knowing he had no satisfactory answer. But now the demonic, oh so tempting, voice just wouldn't shut up.

He didn't notice Alfred's hand til it already held his own. "You know I care about ya, right, Artie? That I want you to be happy?" Alfred's voice was growing softer. "If... If I knew something... Something bad... would you rather I tell you? Or should I let you be happy, even though I know this thing?"

Arthur froze, so unsure of what to say, what to do. He was saved by a warm hand on his shoulder and Francis' "Allô, mes amis. Have I missed something?"

To which Alfred laughed and replied, " Not really. You guys want to check out the zoo? I love the zoo..."

Francis said nothing of the two, still holding hands, as he sat back down. He only looked to Arthur, waiting for him to make the decision. Arthur nodded, and the three settled into a coversation about what they would do for the rest of the day.

The trip to the zoo was mostly uneventful, except Francis kept Arthur's hand in his, not letting the man leave his side. All this caused was Alfred's latching onto Arthur's other side. Arthur was slightly uncomfortable, and the men were attracting stares, but he didn't attempt to break free from either grasp. In all honesty, Arthur was actually grateful for Francis' hold on his left hand, because he was sure it was the only reason Alfred had felt comfortable grabbing the other.

By the time Alfred returned the men to their hotel, both were extremely exhausted from a day of walking. All in all the day had actually been rather nice, and Arthur's earlier doubts were forgotten. Alfred's sweet actions had been so refreshing that Arthur couldn't wait to see what would happen the next day. He hoped the whole scheme could be put to rest once and for all then.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:  
><strong>TRANSLATIONS:  
>Oui- Yes<br>Allô - Hello  
>mes amis - my friends.<p>

I am back! And I'm excited to say that this story should definitely only have 2 chapters left. Cuz I am so ready to let England finally have America.

Ok, I have something important to say now. This story is obviously not going to be a France/America, I just am choosing to interpret the French-American alliance during the American Revolution as a relationship. The way I see this as having gone down is: France is used to the world and how it works, but America is not as used to the world and alliances and such. He thinks he and France are exclusive (they are not), and France doesn't realize he thinks this. America eventually sees him with someone else and thinks France was cheating. France didn't understand just how upset America was.

Obviously I twisted historical fact a little bit. But I want ya'll to know where I'm coming from with this. And France is only acting like a bastard in the McDonalds scene cuz he wants America to make a move.

And if you didn't feel bad for France at a certain point in this chapter, you are hearltess. (I kid, but it is sad... I felt bad making him so sad and almost thought about leaving him a heartless bastard... But I didn't want that. )

Uhh... If the McDonalds in the story is now closed or isn't open all night, I'm sorry. I researched it as best I could...

Is the ending to this chapter too rushed? I just... didn't want to describe the Zoo [surely we all know what a zoo is and how it works, right?] or the Museums too much... And I've never been to DC...

I hope this chapter translates well to ya'll... My brain gets convoluted at times...

Anyways... I hope you enjoyed...

Ciao!  
>-Dev<p> 


	5. Ch 4 In Which The World Falls Down

**Warning:** Some _actual_ guy on guy action (very slight, but it's actual action. XD) France (yet again. And for _another_ different reason.), Flower Language, and uh, slight maybe angst.

**Disclaimer:**I haven't owned it for any of the last chapters. Why would I own it now?

* * *

><p>America woke early. He was having a hard time sleeping due to his uncertainty about recent events. While he was <em>almost<em> positive that what he was doing was the right thing, doubts still lingered. Matthew's story had agreed with Francis', but Alfred felt that the older nation wasn't treating Arthur the way the man deserved. He was still a little wary of out-and-out telling Arthur how he felt, though. The other man was too much of a gentleman to break up with Francis just because Alfred wanted him, and Alfred really didn't want to bring Francis' past into this, when he hadn't actually _done_anything. Yet.

All of these thoughts had contributed to America's mostly sleepless night, and he still had not decided aything yet. He was getting sick of indesicion. Heroes were determined, right? Heroes didn't let anything stand in their way when they knew something had to be done. He was sure that Arthur would be better with him, wasn't he? That he could treat Arthur better and make him happy, right? So what was stopping him? Why hadn't he just stood up and told Arthur outright how he felt? Because he was being cowardly and unheroic, and that needed to change. Today. He'd tell Arthur how he felt; how much he needed the other man. And whether Arthur accepted him or not, he'd at least know he had stayed true to who he was.

With his thoughts settled, and his nervousness ignored, America readied himself to leave. True, he had only slept a few hours, but he had downed two pots of coffee while he agonized over this dilemma. Adrenaline (and caffeine) now coursed through him now, keeping him alert and ready*. He was hoping to spend a little time with England before Francis woke. But first, he had a special errand to run, now that he had a game plan.

Luck was with him, because England also rose early and was sipping the tea he had made for his breakfast when America timidly knocked at their door. When he opened the door, he was greeted with a face full of purple and red flowers. He blinked.

"Umm, I... Got you some flowers, Arthur."

"I can see that. They're nice, Alfred. Carnations?"

"And camellias and heliotropes... You like them?" The flowers receeded and Arthur could see the hopeful expression on Alfred's face.

Apparently, subtlety had been abandoned when Alfred had picked out the flowers. Arthur _knew_ Alfred knew what those flowers meant.** And he was sure Alfred hadn't just picked them out of someone's yard. (Did they even grow here? At this time of year?) He'd actually gone to the trouble of picking those specific flowers. _'Should I... What can I do? I can't just take the flowers and say ''Why yes, Alfred, I love you too.'' I'm technically still supposed to be with Francis... I hate this lying... What will I-' _ Arthur suddenly noticed that Alfred had begun speaking again.

"... was gonna get more, but I decided not to, because I figured these would suit you the best... And simpler is better, right, Artie?"

Was that _actually_ a question? Alfred looked at him expectantly, so Arthur answered. "Ah, yes I suppose so. And... don't call me Artie... " The last line was said with none of the usual irritation behind it.

"Sure thing, Artie. Hey! Let's get these in water."

When the flowers were settled on a table, America and England made themselves comfortable on the couch in the hotel suite. England remained silent, knowing Alfred would speak soon. He wasn't disappointed; less than a minute later, Alfred began talking.

"I need to talk to you about something, Artie. It's really important, and so I'm hoping you'll hear me out and not interrupt me." Alfred licked his lips, nervous, and continued. "I know you're supposed to be with Francis, and I have more to say about that in a minute, but I have to tell you. Arthur, I love you! I _know _we've had a rocky past, but we've been getting closer and all recently. I love you. And I hope, maybe, you feel something to me too?" Alfred lifted his eyes to Arthur's.

Arthur felt like he couldn't breathe. Something about the way Alfred looked at him with his blue eyes so wide, tears forming, made him freeze. Here was what he'd been waiting for, and now he didn't know what he should do.

A flush was spreading over America's face and a look of disappointment began to creep over his face. As a single tear made its way down America's cheek, England moved. He pulled America flush against him, though the position _was_ a bit awkward, and kissed him. The kiss was rushed and rough, but before Arthur pulled his lips away, Alfred had already started to respond. He brushed his tongue hesitantly against England's lips and squeaked as the lips were opened and the kiss deepened. England broke the kiss after a few moments and pulled America onto his lap before bringing their lips back together. A light cough was what broke the two apart.

France stood leaning against the doorway. "Well, this is quite interesting," he drawled, smirking. His yawn destroyed the look, however, and he frowned. "Whatever. You two woke me up."

"How? We were quiet... At least, i'm pretty sure we were..." England couldn't remember them making that much noise, though he couldn't be certain. He _was_ rather preoccupied with the man in his lap.

"You woke me up," Francis repeated, with another yawn. "I shall try to go back to sleep. I think I can rest better knowing my work is done." He started to turn away, before a look of horror rushed onto his face. HE spun back around.

America was trying to figure out what was happening here. England was kissing him -_'rather nicely,'_ he added to himself- and France had walked in. Up to there, everything made enough sense. But what the hell was Francis talking about, and why was he accepting this so easily. And when England and Francis both turned to stare at him, he slowly came to the coclusion that something was definitely a little shifty.

"I think... someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on."

Francis seemed about to speak, but Arthur stopped him. "Don't. I should explain it all." Francis nodded and left the room, presumably to go back to sleep.

Alfred looked at Arthur expectanntly, so he took a deep breath. He grabbed America's hands in his and began speaking.

"Well, first, I want to say... I... like you Alfred. A lot. I've been confused for years, by the way you were acting. I wasn't sure if you felt anything for me and I didn't know what to do. So... I turned to Francis." He chewed on his lip nervously for a moment before continuing. "He seemed sure that you really like me, so he and I came up with a plan to... Well, to get you to do what just basically happened. I've been wondering how I would tell you..." He trailed off, seeing America's face pale.

He looked hurt now.

"You've been pretending this whole time? You and France were ever really together?"

Arthur shook his head, hoping Alfred wasn't really as angry as he seemed.

"Do you realize I've spent the last two days _agonizing_ over whether I should tell you how I felt? Or if I should tell you when I thought France was cheating on you? I spennt hours, trying to figure out which would hurt you more: what he did or me telling you...  
>I've been worried about how you felt; how <em>I<em> felt. You were just _playing?_" Alfred tried to pull his hands away from Arthur's grasp, but the other man refused to let go.

"Please Alfred... Pleas don't be angry with me! Please don't take back what you said earlier, and please don't hate me. I just... I had to know for sure that you really wanted me. That you weren't just playing with me. I'm sorry I hurt you. Please believe that. I'm so sorry. Let me make this up to you! Let me show you how sorry I am, luv..." He brought the younger man's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. "Please let me fix this."

America didn't know what to do. He'd just confessed, just layed his heart on the table, only to find he'd been lied to. Yes, Arthur _seemed_ sorry. He seemed ver contrite indeed. He had accepted America's affections, but...

He'd lied. And Alfred didn't know if he could handle that. He needed to think. Alfred did the only thing he could think of to do: he ran.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**  
>*: Not really. You feel more alert and stuff when you drink caffiene, but really your work and actions are sloppier and less coordiated than usual. Yeah you work fast, but you don't work well.<br>**: Heliotropes mean devotion and eternal love, red carnations are admiration and my heart aches for you, and red camellias mean "You're a flame in my heart."

Can i just say I love the word agonizing? And... I've had that ending scene written since chapter 2. For real. I tweaked Alfred's spoken bits, and added to Arthur's... But it's pretty much the same as what I originally had written.

Don't hate me. Surely you never expected me to let them just have a 'happily ever after', right? Do ya'll really think Arthur could have lied forever, or that Alfred could just let the lies go without caring at all?

By the way... chapter title= ... I'm listening to As The World Falls Down by David Bowie. [God, I've loved him for so long. Unfortunately, he's 64 and married to a supermodel. But hey, he still rocks.] The song is from the movie the Labyrinth, one of my fave 80s movies. :)

**Ehh... Sorry about this. I was in a rush to post this because I was so excited... And so I didn't check the grammar and spelling ad all well enough. I basically had so many errors that I felt the need to completely reupload the document. Sorry for the inconvenience...**


	6. Ch 5 It's Only Forever

**Warnnings: **boyxboy, _slight_ angst, MORE FLOWERS, magical parks from nowhere

**Disclaimer: **I've never really owned any of it. But I've had fun with it!

**Brief Note:**__ In this chapter, text messaging is used. Texts are identified by a single quotation mark (') and no italics. I do not use 'txt speak' because well... I don't even use it when _I_ text, so I'm not going to put it in a story where texting isn't used very much. Maybe if I do a highschool fic, I'll have some of the characters use it. In this story however, there is proper grammar and spelling (Well, I hope so anyway.) Just a little information for you.

England stared after America in shock. Really, he should have expected something like this. What he had done was awful. Lying really wasn't the way to start off a relationship. He couldn't even blame France, because he'd agreed to the plan and, really, it _wasn't_ France's fault. It was all England's. He was the one who had let himself lie like that.

He'd been hoping that America would forgive his lies, but from the way America had run off, it seemed that the other didn't even want to see him. Tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to let them spill. He wouldn't give in to the depression he felt. Surely there had to be a way to cool off the young man. You couldn't just turn off something like love, right?

Maybe it was even better like this. Everything was in the open, and he wasn't lying anymore. He could try to talk to America later. Maybe even in a few years he'd-

"I don't want to wait years," England mumbled to himself. "I... don't want to wait at all. I was wrong," he added miserably. "I think I've loved him all along..."

"Whether you have or you haven't, Angleterre, you need to go after him." England turned to see France leaning against the doorframe once again. "I'm sorry for not keeping my mouth shut. I was tired, and not thinking. I didn't do it on purpose... Je suis désolé*."

"It's not your fault, Francis. I... It was my fault. I agreed with your plan. I should have said something in the beginning about the whole lying thing. But I didn't think about it." Arthur smiled bleakly at him. "But what did you mean?"

"What did I... Oh! Go after him! See if you can find him and calm him down. Angleterre, he loves you and... I think you _do_ love him. So find him and show him that."

"You're right." Arthur stood up and grabbed his cell phone and wallet. "I'll be back later. I hope... I hope he listens."

"Bon chance."

Arthur left. He had no idea where to start looking for Alfred, but he had already thought of something that would maybe improve his chances with the younger male. Hey, it had worked for Alfred!

It took a while, but eventually Arthur had found the flowers he wanted. Purple violets, a single red tulip, red carnations, purple hyacinths, and purple Peruvian lilies made up the bouquet he now held.** He grinned to himself, noticing that the colors were the same as the flowers Alfred had brought him. The grin was quickly wiped from his face as he remembered the next challenge he'd have to face: getting Alfred to talk to him... and tell him where the other had run off to. He hoped Alfred would give him another chance.

He took out his cell and began typing: 'Al, please, let me talk to you. ...Will you tell me where you are?' He pressed send and began to wait. Less than a minute later, he recieved a reply.

'What could you possibly have to say?'

'I... I want to explain Alfred. Please, give me a chance. I know I was wrong. Where are you?'

'... In the park near your hotel. I'll wait for you on a main path. I don't know why though.'

'I'll be there. Soon.'

He began running. Francis and Arthur had passed the park the day before. If it _was_ the park Alfred was referring to. He could only hope that it was the right one. By the time he reached the park, he was out of breath, so he slowed to a walk. He began looking frantically for Alfred.

At the far end of the park, on an isolated path, Alfred stood, frowning. When Arthur reached him, he simply said "Follow me," and turned to walk. So Arthur followed him down the treelined path, to a small clearing that was hidden from the rest of the park and the world outside.

Alfred stopped and sat down in the grass under a tree. Arthur followed him and, before sitting, offered the flowers to him.

"Flowers won't make everything better, Arthur," Alfred mumbled, but a slight blush tinged his cheeks as he accepted the bouquet.

"I know." Arthur bit his lip as he tried to think of what he would say. Of what he _could _say to fix this. He really didn't know what Alfred would want to hear, or what might possibly make him angrier. But he had to start somewhere. Apologizing again seemed safe enough.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I acted like prat and, well, I think I've ruined everything. I hope I haven't. I hope you can forgive me."

"I still don't get _why_ you lied about everything. Why did you let me think that you and France were together?"

"I... I thought maybe if you thought I was with him, you'd make a move. I still wasn't sure you really did like me. The idea sounded good when Francis and I thought of it... But now, really thinking about it, I can see it was stupid. I was thoughtless and oblivious to what _you_ felt. Please believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you."

America was silent for several long moments, and England began to worry. Surely America was going to tell him he'd lost any chance with him. He was so caught up in his worrying that he didn't notice when America began crying. It wasn't until he heard sniffling that he broke out of his thoughts.

"Alfred? Are you... are you okay?" Seeing America cry like this made him feel worse. _'I really am an idiot...'_ Whether America hated him or not, he had to try to make him feel better.

Ignoring America's weak struggles, England pulled him into his arms and on his lap. Within a few moments the younger man stopped struggling completely and just held onto England. He was still crying a little, so England began whispering in his ear: _'sorry'_s and _'I love you'_s repeated as he hugged the younger man tightly.

Eventually, he calmed and Arthur loosened his hold on Alfred. He pulled back to look into America's eyes and brush some of the messy hair out of his face. His hands lingered on Alfred's cheeks. When no move was made to remove them, Arthur hesitantly pulled the other man back to him for a kiss, eyes never leaving Alfred's.

"I want to forgive you. But..." Arthur cut Alfred off with another kiss.

"I know, luv. And I'm sorry. Just give _us_ a chance. I'll show you that you can trust me again. I will." Arthur began pressing frantic kisses over Alfred's cheeks, lips, forehead, everywhere he could reach.

Alfred backed away. "Do you promise?"

"Yes. I promise. I'll be someone you can trust; I want you to be happy." Arthur smiled and kissed Alfred again. "I want to be the one to make you happy."

Alfred finally smiled at that, and the older nation brought their lips back together. Arthur nipped at Alfred's lips and, when they parted, deepened the kiss. After several long moments, he pulled back to admire Alfred's flushed face.

Both men were panting slightly, and Arthur smirked. He was proud of what just a few kisses had done to the younger nation on his lap. Alfred's lips were parted and swollen and he was holding on to England as if he might fall if he let go.

Arthur crashed their lips together again and maneuvered them onto the ground, Alfred on his back. Slipping a leg between Alfred's, Arthur began trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck. Teeth and tongue made their way down, and when Arthur reached the edge of the other's shirt, he sat back on his knees. He made to unbutton the offending shirt, but before he could undo the first one, Alfred stopped him.

"Not here, please? It's too open and... I'd like to take this slow, if it's alright with you." Alfred's voice was shy and hesitant, so completely unlike his normal boisterous voice.

Arthur stood, and offered his hand to help Alfred up. "Of course, luv. Whatever you like."

**A/N:  
><strong>* Je suis désolé- This translates to _more_ than just "I'm sorry." Désolé translates to desolate and so it's more "I am desolate [to have done that.]" than "Ah, gee, I'm sorry..." according to the knowledge I do have of French. We were taught "Pardon" as the general "sorry" and "J'ai regrette" as well. BUT! In this case, France feels terrible for spilling the beans and feels like it's his fault, so he _is _desolate. But ah... I haven't had a French class since 2007-ish and I haven't had a really good teacher since the year before that. [I moved my sophomore year.] If any French speakers see this, and I'm wrong, please correct me. ...I'm pretty sure I'm right though.

**Other translations:**  
>Bon chance- Good luck<br>Angleterre- England

**- More flower language. XD Purple violets are "You occupy my thoughts." Red tulips mean, among other things, 'Believe me', and that is the meaning Arthur intended. Red carnations still mean "My heart aches for you." and apparently thry also mean passion and love. Purple hyacinths mean "I am sorry. Please forgive me." and so were, of course, perfect to include. The last flower is also known as Alstroemeria and isn't a true lily. Supposedly the flower represents devotion among other things,though it is usually used for friendship as well. But with the rest of the bouquet, the meaning becomes clearer. [My boyfriend got me some for our 15 month anniversary in June. [Eh... my name is actually Lily, so... it makes more sense when you know that. And I love purple. He got me purple ones. XDDDD]]  
>I really have been excited to use this flower language stuff, so I hope this isn't too much for ya'll. It just seems so cute!<p>

Chapter title is, again, from a David Bowie Labyrinth song...

That park is totally made up. I really didn't feel like researching what parks are around DC so... Yea. I'm sorry folks. But hey. I had to have them meet somewhere after Alfred ran off!

So, how did you like the ending? Kind of abrupt but... I think it fits, don't ya'll?

By the way... writing make-out scenes is so weird. Cuz I want to be descriptive, but not the "He did this and then _he_ did that and then their tongues did backflips while playing the ukelele" kind of descriptive... Yea...

Anywho. IT'S FINISHED! OMG! It's so exciting to actually have finished this story. And to have posted both of these last chapters so close together. I hope ya'll enjoyed this...


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